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A Grandfather’s Legacy By Fr. Chris Saenz

My grandfather, at the risk of being fired and breaking city regulations, had driven off his bus route and drove several blocks on the side streets to deliver Billy into the arms of his mother. It was reminiscent to Jesus healing the crippled man on a Sabbath (Matthew 12: 10-15), a violation of the Sabbath laws. Like Jesus, my grandfather believed compassion should not be limited by law.

A Grandfather’s Legacy

By Fr. Chris Saenz

Fr Chris is a Columban priest presently
assigned in the US.

When I was ordained in the year 2000, I envisioned
myself serving in foreign missions and eventually dying “with my boots on.” However, at the close of our first centenary
I found myself returning home after seventeen years in Chile, South America. It was hard to leave a land and people that I
have come to consider as my own. Yet, a
sense of urgency came over me as I returned to the United States to do home
mission.

I was confronted by a nation that had completely
changed since I left it in 2000. The
social and political climate have become very polarized and at its hearth is
immigration. I found myself looking to
the past and finding guidance from my deceased grandfather, Augustine Ramirez,
as I go forward in this mission.

Augustine and Jesse Ramirez, Father Chris’ grandparents

My grandfather Auggie, as many called him, was born in
Leon de Mexico and came to the USA illegally when he was an adolescent. He was a migrant worker for many years and
eventually settled in Topeka, Kansas, where he became a city bus driver. In
time, he began his own janitorial business and worked the business until he was
92 years old. He passed away in January
of 2011 at the age of 96.

At his funeral an elderly gentleman, Billy Gomez, came
forward to tell me a story. One day
Billy was very sick and on the way home, he lost consciousness. When he had awakened, Billy was at the front
door of his house. My grandfather, at
the risk of being fired and breaking city regulations, had driven off his bus
route and drove several blocks on the side streets to deliver Billy into the
arms of his mother. It was reminiscent to
Jesus healing the crippled man on a Sabbath (Matthew 12: 10-15), a violation of
the Sabbath laws. Like Jesus, my
grandfather believed compassion should not be limited by law.

Today, my grandfather’s experience would describe the
reality of the many Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) dreamers living
in the USA. Like them, he had come to
consider the United States his home. He
was an avid Kansas State Wildcat football fan and wore the K state’s colors
with pride. He paid taxes and social
security for decades knowing that as an illegal migrant, he would never receive
those benefits. He was blessed with a long and healthy life, but for many
years, he lived in fear of being deported.
However, what terrified him most
was the possibility of being separated from his family.

Therefore, after being in the country for more than 60
years, my grandfather took the first steps to become a U.S. citizen. Finally, at the age of 80 he was sworn in as
a U.S. citizen in 1994.

Given my grandfather’s legacy, and the biblical
imperative to welcome the stranger and foreigner (Exodus 22: 21; Deuteronomy
10: 19; Matthew 25: 31-46), I felt compelled to direct my pastoral efforts in
my home mission by accompanying our brothers and sisters from other countries. Currently, I visit Hispanics in a local jail
who have been detained by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for
illegal entry into the USA. Many of them
had escaped violent and difficult economic situations in their country of
origin to look for a better life. One such example is Juan from Guatemala. Juan,
as an adolescent, had witnessed his grandmother being murdered by gangs. Having
no family left in Guatemala and no security, Juan left his home country to join
his family in the USA. Juan found work in restaurants and in construction. One day, Juan had a flat tire which caused
him a minor car accident. He was
detained after being asked for documentation and failing to provide any. Juan
pleaded for asylum but, unfortunately, was deported back to Guatemala. His story is like many others I have
encountered and I can’t ignore their plight. Bringing compassion to a difficult
situation is my grandfather’s legacy, and a Columban priority for the next 100 years.